


two slow dancers, last ones out

by frenchleaves



Series: who when young would run like a storm (skts) [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (i'm sorry), Blow Jobs, Friends With Benefits, Inspired by a Mitski Song, M/M, NSFW, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Sakusa Kiyoomi, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Slash, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, SakuAtsu NSFW Week 2020, SakuAtsu Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchleaves/pseuds/frenchleaves
Summary: There is something so religious, Kiyoomi notes, about the way Atsumu lies in all of his glory over the sheets of his bed. As if he were a golden god waiting for prayers, and Kiyoomi has fallen so hard at his feet that he’s willing to give them whenever he wants.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: who when young would run like a storm (skts) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924927
Comments: 7
Kudos: 195
Collections: SakuAtsu NSFW Week





	two slow dancers, last ones out

**Author's Note:**

> YOU'RE GROWING TIRED OF ME YOU LOVE ME SO HARD AND I STILL CAN'T SLEEP YOU'RE GROWING TIRED OF ME AND ALL THE THINGS I DON'T TALK ABOUT SORRY I DON'T WANT YOUR TOUCH IT'S NOT THAT I DON'T WANT YOU SORRY I CAN'T TAKE YOUR TOUCH IT'S JUST THAT I FELL IN LOVE WITH A WAR AND NOBODY TOLD ME IT ENDED AND IT LEFT A PEARL IN MY HEAD AND I ROLL IT AROUND EVERY NIGHT JUST TO WATCH IT GLOW EVERY NIGHT BABY THAT'S WHERE I GO SORRY I DON'T WANT YOUR TOUCH IT'S NOT THAT I DON'T WANT YOU SORRY I CAN'T TAKE YOUR TOUCH THERE'S A HOLE THAT YOU FILL YOU FILL YOU FILL BUT IT'S JUST THAT I FELL IN LOVE WITH A WAR AND NOBODY TOLD ME IT ENDED AND IT LEFT A PEARL IN MY HEAD AND I ROLL IT AROUND EVERY NIGHT JUST TO WATCH IT GO EVERY NIGHT BABY THAT'S WHERE I GO JUST TO WATCH IT GLOW. 
> 
> okay now that that's over this is for sakuatsu nsfw week day 2 but the quote prompt, which is "don't go, stay the night" and i might have gone too far with the yearning. sorry. title is from a two slow dancers by mitski but this is based around a pearl hence the caps before this. sorry! mitski is for the wlw/nblw and sakusa kiyoomi. 
> 
> also sakusa pov!! no beta!! enjoy.

> Sorry, I don't want your touch  
>  It's not that I don't want you  
>  Sorry, I can't take your touch

> There's a hole that you fill  
>  You fill, you fill
> 
> It's just that I fell in love with a war  
>  And nobody told me it ended
> 
> _– **A pearl** , Mistki_

* * *

There’s a content sigh from somewhere between the pillows, one that comes from under a mass of messy blonde hair. There is something so religious, Kiyoomi notes, about the way Atsumu lies in all of his glory over the sheets of his bed. As if he were a golden god waiting for prayers, and Kiyoomi has fallen so hard at his feet that he’s willing to give them whenever he wants.

This Kiyoomi hates, mainly because Atsumu seems oblivious to his affection. 

See, if there’s one thing Kiyoomi Sakusa dislikes, other than the obvious fears which have made him infamous within the volleyball circuit for a decade, it’s Miya Atsumu. They have never gotten along, with Kiyoomi far too high strung to go along with Miya’s stupidity, and Atsumu is far too affectionate and irreverent for someone as averse to people as Kiyoomi is. But then, Atsumu had all but welcomed him with open arms when he joined the MBSY Black Jackals, taking note of Kiyoomi’s want for space as a kind king would to his subjects. Atsumu had, apparently, grown kinder over the years, probably because he had to learn how to buffer his ego without the ever present filter that Osamu had provided since they were born. This has all but wallowed any actual hate he had for the man, and it had all morphed to affectionate frustration over the time. 

It says a lot about Kiyoomi and his strength, or lack thereof, how easily he fell for the blonde.

Now, at Kiyoomi’s house, lies the evidence of this weakness. It’s not as if they’re together in a relationship, which makes the matters worse, as Motoya told him when he had told him about his situation. Atsumu had just approached him one, with the confidence of a stupid man, and pressed a hand to his covered cheek. The look he had given Kiyoomi when he had asked if he wanted to accompany him home, when they were in the middle of a dimly lit club that Kiyoomi absolutely despised, that made whatever resistance inside him break instantly. Now, Kiyoomi wonders why Atsumu even asked in the first place, heart hurting suspiciously when considering any possible answer. He had accepted because Atsumu’s touch made his skin tingle in a good way, and a piece of the blonde was better than nothing. Sure, he had no claims over the man, but there was something about him that just drove Kiyoomi to madness. 

In the end, Kiyoomi had volunteered his own place, muttering something or other about bacteria and how Atsumu probably lived in a dump, but the blinding smile that the blonde had given him just made him glad he offered his place. This way, he could throw Atsumu out after and just question his life choices. And it went exactly like that, Atsumu always leaving after they were done, probably to keep Kiyoomi’s boundaries. He didn’t know if he wanted Atsumu to keep those boundaries anymore, but being that close to someone else, so dependent, so in need of affection, it scared Kiyoomi more than anything else.

That was three months ago.

“Ya look stressed, Omi-kun,” Atsumu whines, sheets rustling as he sits on the border of the bed, back facing Kiyoomi. “Didn’t I do a good job, huh? I don’t think ya could look stressed after that.”

“Mmh,” Kiyoomi has nothing to say that would not be incredibly embarrassing, so he quietly just observes the thin scratch lines he had left on Atsumu’s back, and the muscles that move as the man puts on his pants. It takes even Kiyoomi by surprise, when he realizes that he desperately needs Atsumu to stay. If he left then whatever void there was inside him would burst. 

There must be a maximum amount of time that it takes before sleeping with someone that doesn’t return your feelings turns so painful that it makes it hard to breathe, but Kiyoomi passed that stage right after Atsumu had moved a hand to cup his cheek, Kiyoomi pressed against the counter of his kitchen, and pressed a soft kiss on his uncovered lips. 

He’s lost in the memories, so it takes him by surprise when Atsumu pushes a palm against his shoulder, and recoils at the touch. He and Atsumu lock eyes, and he can see a sliver of hurt behind his eyes, not used to being the one causing Kiyoomi’s disgust for touch, even by accident. Kiyoomi notes how thoughtful Atsumu has been with him on that, and considers if Atsumu holds any affection other than attraction. He then remembers that Atsumu has built his persona around being a player, unreachable for the masses yet kind enough of a deity to come down every once a then to take someone home and then leave them behind. Kiyoomi wonders how long it will take Atsumu to leave him behind, an exact opposite of their standings when they were younger and dumber and rougher around the edges, a net set between them instead of pushing them towards a similar goal. 

Neither of them move, Atsumu’s hand now between them over the sheets, his eyes still wide, and the room still eerily silent except for their breathing and the bustling of the city beyond the windows. 

“I’m sorry,” Kiyoomi says, now looking at the hand instead of at Atsumu.

Atsumu leaves any hurt behind as quickly as a switch, and shrugs. “It’s nothin’, ya were lost in thought, so I thought I could bring ya back for a second,” he waves a hand around apologetically, and that’s what it takes for Kiyoomi to sit up. There is something hesitant in Atsumu’s tone then, when he continues. “If ya want to stop this ya know we can, right?”

“No,” Kiyoomi bursts out, thankfully in a very dull tone that hides his desperation well. “I’m good with this.”

“Okay,” the blonde’s eyes widen, and his movements are then stilted, almost awkward, as if he hadn’t had Sakusa a brimming mess just mere minutes before, shaking and whining under his touch. Kiyoomi wants to know why, after experiencing all that, Atsumu believes Kiyoomi would be able to stop what they have. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

Kiyoomi might be cold and calculating, but something so feral and instinctive takes over him when Atsumu moves to leave the room. He grasps his wrist tightly, and a clothed Atsumu turns around. Kiyoomi has no shame anymore, not after three months of being seen naked and treated sweetly and roughly and shamelessly by a man unbound by the past. “Don’t go,” he murmurs, eyes looking anywhere but at Atsumu, who huffs a laugh. 

“What? Ya want to go for another round?” he says, as if Kiyoomi isn’t about to burst out confessions like a sinner at a shrine. The blonde is so oblivious it hurts, and he wants to get Atsumu to understand him. “I think I could, I would just need to pee.”

“ _No_ ,” he says, voice on the border of insanity, heart ready to burst out from his ears, “Don’t go, stay the night.”

That’s all it takes for Atsumu’s eyes to widen, even if just a little in understanding. “You want me to stay?” he asks incredulously, knowing that Kiyoomi hates having people stay the night, once even leaving a messy and tired Atsumu sleeping on his couch only because it was too late and he had passed out. Even then, Atsumu had disappeared come the morning, as if to appease Kiyoomi. Again, Kiyoomi is thankful for the sentiment, but if Atsumu left after this, he doesn’t think he could ever want to be with him again when the threat to be left alone becomes more of a possibility and then further on a reality.

“Yes, if you want,” he states, hand tugging on Atsumu’s t-shirt, beckoning him closer. “We don’t have to do anything more, just stay the night.”

Atsumu nods dumbly, still processing the information, before bustling into a shit-eating grin. “You really want me to stay, Omi-omi?”

Kiyoomi sighs in defeat, knowing that Atsumu will now take advantage of the situation just to mess with him. “Why would I ask you to stay if I didn’t want to? Don’t be stupid, Miya.”

“Oh! Omi wants to kiss me so bad,” he sing-songs, taking off his pants so he can be more comfortable, keeping his boxers on. It would grate on Kiyoomi’s nerves, if he didn’t feel so incredibly and fearfully attached to the stupid dumbass. “You wanna kiss me soooo bad.”

“Actually,” Kiyoomi murmurs, pushing Atsumu towards him and onto his bed, and straddling his hips, “I want to do more than that.” 

He says this as Atsumu melts back into the pillows, back arching as Kiyoomi presses his lips right under his jaw, nipping at the skin lightly with his teeth, which makes Atsumu let out a whine. “You drive me crazy, Omi,” he whispers into his ear, and Kiyoomi has already come twice for the night, but the shiver down his spine and Atsumu’s hands pushing against his tights sing against him like a promise. Kiyoomi presses his lips on Atsumu’s, lips bruising together as he grinds down his hips on the other’s, circling in a steady rhythm. “God, yeah. Just like that.”

A hand on Atsumu’s chest tickles down the side, the other deep into Atsumu’s hair, and Kiyoomi wants to drown in the endless sea under him, which writhes and shivers as he continues to press kisses on his mouth, his tongue, his chin, the side of his jaw. It is erotic as it is sensual as it is religious, and Kiyoomi stops and looks reverently into Atsumu’s eyes, which are bright and widened and glazed over from the pleasure. “You’re so beautiful,” he exhales, in contrast to Atsumu’s sharp inhale, almost as if the blonde is taking away his air. He leaves Atsumu no time to answer, moving back to pressing kisses down his jaw, down his neck, the conjecture between his shoulder and his neck, his collarbone, leaving him and the blonde breathless. Any aversion for touch is replaced with the outward need for it, and Kiyoomi takes and takes and takes, hoping to fill this void Atsumu has created in his soul.

“Kiyoomi,” Atsumu says between moans, and his hips thrust forwards as Kiyoomi moves down and down, sucking on the skin over his belly button, “I don’t think I’ll last long if ya continue like that.”

He might be falling and falling for the man, but nothing will take away the want to annoy him, and so Kiyoomi bites on the spot, smiling at the gasp that leaves Atsumu’s mouth, his hand now grasping at Kiyoomi’s curls and pulling. There is nothing as beautiful as an unhinged Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi knows, after watching him for years and now for months, losing control over his actions over the careful press of tongues and fingers. “Good.”

Atsumu seems desperate, whining and arching his back, and Kiyoomi finds himself back on his knees, looking down on Atsumu and his halo of golden hair, some strands stuck on his forehead by sweat, erection straining against his boxers. He goes down again, taking off the boxers deftly in one swift movement. Hands press against thighs, and Kiyoomi is breathless and irrevocably fucked. He moves, pushing Atsumu’s legs apart, a cacophony of moans and whines coming from Atsumu, who has never once tried to mask the sounds of pleasure. Kiyoomi nips at the thighs, the soft skin supple and receptive as he grasps it with his teeth, the legs quivering. He snakes a hand down to his cock, rubbing on the slit and then down to the base, and moans against Atsumu. “Kiyoomi, Kiyoomi,” Atsumu says, like a prayer, and Kiyoomi is so, so weak. “Ya– _oh,_ yer making me go crazy.”

He continues to lick into his thighs, then takes the hand he had been using to press Atsumu’s hips down to take his cock by the base, still nipping and sucking in between Atsumu’s legs. They’re already tired from before, so it’s a wonder they’ve lasted this long. Kiyoomi’s ass is still loose from the stretch Atsumu had left, and the bruises on Atsumu’s neck from Kiyoomi’s biting already look purple and green, a testament to their time spent together. He pumps Atsumu once in sync with his other hand, but then licks at the slit tentatively, making Atsumu release a guttural moan. He’s always been so vocal, and right now it’s no different. “Oh god, Omi. If ya suck my dick, I think I’ll die.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Kiyoomi says, smirking before licking on the underside, his other hands pumping quicker and quicker as his belly starts to contract, pleasure building up over and over again. He takes the cock in his mouth, careful not to graze it with his teeth, and feels hands tightening on his hair, pulling as Atsumu’s hips thrust violently into his mouth. He pops the cock out of his mouth, the corners of his lips turning down, and presses a hand against Atsumu’s hips again, holding him down. “Don’t fuck my mouth yet.”

“Jeez, yer so hot,” Atsumu mumbles, and Kiyoomi takes the cock into his mouth again. With his hand on his own dick, he pumps erratically before coming on the sheets, which he guesses he will now have to clean, again. The moan he releases vibrates into Atsumu’s cock as he sucks sharply, mind becoming blank as the hot string of pleasure takes over him, and then he takes all of Atsumu in, up until the tip hits the back of his throat. Kiyoomi does not choke, and instead pulls back before taking it all in, and the hand on his side releases Atsumu’s hips, which begin to thrust arhythmically into Kiyoomi’s mouth quickly and roughly. The hand that had been around his cock comes up, and takes Atsumu’s balls, massaging them with his fingers as he continues to try to take all sound from Atsumu, every moan, every whine, every scream, every whimper, every single word. Kiyoomi’s greedy and selfish, and wants it all for himself. “‘M not lastin’ long,” Atsumu whines, hips slapping against Kiyoomi’s slack jaw, but he stays there, sucking until Atsumu comes in a hot flash, and swallows down before coming up.

“Yer so good to me, Omi-kun,” Atsumu mumbles, hand coming up to cup Kiyoomi’s cheek. It burns, to be touched so softly by the man he reveres, to be touched without an attachment or a promise of returning to him. Kiyoomi has never been vocal with his feelings, preferring to keep them all locked deeply into his heart and instead communicating affection through his actions, his words, his beliefs. He desperately wants Atsumu to know how deeply he feels. Atsumu continues talking, the ramblings of a crazy man, tired out of his mind, as he nestles into the pillows, eyes dropping. “Continue like that an’ I might just fall in love with ya’”

“Go to sleep, Miya,” Kiyoomi grumbles, embarrassed about how easily Atsumu could just say something like that, but stands up to change the sheets. Then, he comes back with a new set, and drapes it over Atsumu and him. 

Atsumu still looks ethereal, the sliver of moonlight hitting the high of his cheekbones and the tip of his nose, lips so plump from the kissing and the biting. “Sure, Omi-kun. C’mere,” he says, pushing Kiyoomi towards him, and if he were any more awake, he would’ve tensed. This way, he melts into the embrace, and snakes a hand to Atsumu’s nape, fingers touching adoringly the stray hairs and the buzz of the undercut. The blonde seems to purr under the touch, and nestles his head under Kiyoomi’s, fitting like a missing piece on a puzzle that Kiyoomi had given up on completing. 

From this close, Kiyoomi can see the length of the blonde’s eyelashes, almost brown under the moonlight, and how his nose is crooked to the side. He’s slightly smiling, which makes his left cheek crinkle up with a slight dimple, one that Kiyoomi has only been able to see in their intimacy. Atsumu mumbles something or other, incoherent syllables without any thought behind them, until he falls into deep slumber. 

There is something so religious, Kiyoomi notes once more as his thoughts begin to fade into nothingness, about having a god fall asleep in your arms.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> catch me being gay n yearning in my twitter [@shikameninist](https://twitter.com/shikameninist)
> 
> also, my [sakuatsu playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1BaK4idX5u3HgaubqiZOKv?si=yCGh-goZQCq0rYAu_7v4QQ) which is just sad yearning. enjoy that too!


End file.
